Surprise Encounter
by r4ven3
Summary: Who is the woman who has the ability to create such anger in Harry? Ruth is sure it is none of her business. This story in 3 chapters is the outcome of a stray comment on Facebook by a couple of other readers/writers of HR fanfic. Set some time (probably late-ish) in S8, an alternative lead up to Ruth asking Harry for a drink.
1. Chapter 1

Harry sighed heavily as he stepped from his office onto the Grid floor. The next hour or two could potentially test him as a man, and not in the way he was familiar with being tested. The continuing state of terror threats against the nation – and in the case of Nightingale, the world - was a continuing concern, and deep inside himself he suspected that little he did could alter that momentum. His next test, however, was to be happening much closer to home.

He stood silently in the shadows and watched his small team while they worked. Ros sat at her desk, flicking a pen back and forth between her fingers as she quietly spoke to Lucas, himself sitting on the edge of her desk, his arms crossed over his chest, while he watched her closely. Harry had thought there to be something going on between the two of them, but then Lucas had begun meeting Sarah Caulfield more frequently than he needed, resulting in an increase in sarcasm from Ros. He now believed that the younger man's interest lay elsewhere. This saddened him, as the closeness Ros and Lucas had shared had spilled over into their working relationship, creating the kind of working intimacy which he and Ruth had once shared, and he hoped were on the way to sharing once again. He knew Lucas' incarceration in Russia had changed him - damaged him - and his odd and capricious attachments to women seemed to reflect that.

As if he could talk. What did he know about women anyway? He'd known a lot of women, loved only a few, and yet the past five or six years of his life had taught him that he knew almost nothing about what went on in the heads and hearts of the majority of women. All it had taken was for him to have formed an attachment to just one woman, and all he thought he knew about the fairer sex had again and again been proven false. He had no answers other than the realisation that everything he'd previously believed about women had been formed from either massive assumption or poor judgement. In truth, he suspected that his previous knowledge of women had been gleaned from the responses of a certain part of his anatomy, one with only an unconscious connection to his brain, so that when it spoke, all reason had flown out the window, along with his underwear, and frequently his good reputation.

At the desk right in front of him sat the object of much of his confusion, her head bent over some pages scattered on the desk in front of her, while Tariq leaned over her shoulder, pointing to something on her monitor, while he spoke quietly and she listened. Both were engrossed in the work in front of them, their physical closeness all terribly innocent. He indulged himself for another moment as he watched Ruth at work. She spoke animatedly with Tariq, granting him a rare smile, and yet her interactions with her section head were still wary at best. He would wait for her. He _must_ wait for her. To do otherwise was unthinkable to him.

Harry was proud of his team. Jo's death had shattered them all, but they were recovering ….. or at least, going through the motions of recovery. Life went on, even if there had been times of late when he had wished it didn't have to …... that he could step out of his life for a moment – however brief – and take a few deep breaths, catch up on some sleep, and turn his face upwards to bathe in the sun's rays.

Right at that moment – at 2.08 pm on a Monday – what Harry wanted most was to speak with Ruth. He wanted to explain a few things which were threatening to complicate his already complicated life, and yet nor did he wish to disturb she and Tariq. As he turned and headed towards the stairs to the roof balcony for a spot of fresh air and some thinking space, he suspected that had he a moment alone with Ruth, he'd not know where to begin. He had a little over twenty minutes in which to concoct a reasonable explanation, since to his ears the truth seemed so timeworn. The very worst response from Ruth would be that she didn't care, and that what could potentially turn his life inside out – even if only briefly – would leave her completely unmoved.

Ruth's sudden return to London had been at once both tragic and bittersweet. As occupied as Harry had been by the demands of his job, there were too many moments in the day when he found himself all over the place emotionally, wanting to make a personal and heartfelt apology to Ruth one minute, while the next he'd be overwhelmed by a sudden surge of frustration towards her …... having little idea what it was lay behind either of these extremes. What had happened that day, the day George had died, and Nico had been rendered fatherless, had been about the best outcome they could have hoped for, and Harry knew that Ruth would not appreciate him reminding her of that.

* * *

><p>At 2.23 pm Ruth heard Tariq say, "Who's that?"<p>

"Who are you talking about?" replied Ruth, looking around the Grid. All she noticed was that Ros and Lucas had disappeared, leaving she and Tariq alone, apart from three junior officers and a smattering of admin staff.

"Look ahead of you, Ruth …... there's a woman hanging around the door to Harry's office. She looks -"

And Tariq did not finish his sentence, because without even thinking about it, Ruth had stood and was headed towards the woman, whose hand was already about to open Harry's office door.

"Bloody cheek!" Ruth said under her breath. "Excuse me …." she called out, so that the woman halted in her advance towards Harry's private domain, and turned her very clear grey eyes on Ruth. "You can't actually go in there without permission."

Ruth managed a small smile, because she believed that a polite approach would gain results, where rudeness would only attract antagonism. The woman stood, her hand remaining on the door handle, and Ruth noticed she'd lifted one eyebrow, and her expression, if not belligerent, was not welcoming of Ruth's interruption.

"I do have permission to be here, as it turns out."

The woman was older than Ruth – perhaps in her mid fifties – and she was elegantly dressed in a pencil slim dark grey skirt and fitted jacket in a lighter shade of grey. She had dark blond hair, which fell just short of her shoulders, and was perfectly coiffed. While no longer slim, nor was the woman overweight. Giving the woman a quick once-over with her eyes, Ruth determined that she was not used to being questioned. She was clearly not secret service – the clutch bag held tightly under one arm gave that away. Women in positions of power in the secret service rarely carried anything, other than perhaps a slim briefcase, but then only those in the highest echelons of power carried anything at all, and most had minions to do their carrying for them. Presuming this woman was not lost on her way to another department altogether, she must be here to meet Harry, and their connection was private.

"Excuse me," Ruth said, stepping past the woman, and into Harry's office, heading towards his desk, and his appointment diary.

"I didn't know Harry had a secretary," the woman said, her voice soft and with a hint of a playful tone. "Things must be looking up."

"I'm not his secretary," Ruth declared, looking up from Harry's appointment diary, to stare daggers at the woman. "I'm his intelligence analyst." And why she'd felt the need to qualify the `I am not Harry's secretary,' Ruth could not say. She was annoyed, and yet she barely knew why. There was something about this woman which had set her teeth on edge. "And he has no appointment scheduled for this time in his diary."

"That's because it's personal," the woman said, stepping into the office, and standing half way between the door and the desk.

"This is a place of work," Ruth went on, barely knowing where she was going with this line of information. "He's out of the office at present, and -"

"Oh, he'll be here …... if he knows what's good for him."

"What are you doing in my office?" Harry's voice growled from the doorway.

Ruth turned to see him standing there, his eyes blazing, his attention fully on the well-dressed woman.

"There's no need to show off in front of staff, Harry. I already know you're the boss."

_Oh, God,_ Ruth thought, noticing the heightened colour of Harry's face. _Harry is about to have a coronary, and it'll be my job to perform CPR. _

"Your secretary invited me in," the woman continued.

"As you already know, I don't have a secretary. Ruth is my intelligence analyst, and she has work to be getting on with, rather than swanning around after you."

Sensing that her presence was not required, Ruth ducked past the woman, and then slid past Harry, who only acknowledged her presence with a quick flick of his eyes in her direction. Harry's personal liaisons were none of her business, and judging by the tone between he and this woman, Ruth figured she had dodged a bullet. So why did she feel so wretched, and ….. and _jealous_? She crossed the floor of the Grid to her desk, and sat down. Not once did she raise her head to check on what was happening in Harry's office.

"Who is she?" Tariq whispered loudly from his desk a couple of yards away.

"I have no idea." Ruth hadn't even lifted her head to look Tariq's way. "It seems she's someone Harry knows rather well."

"She doesn't look like the sort to be his girlfriend. Like …... he hasn't kissed her or anything."

"Tariq ….. it's really none of our business."

"Aren't you even a little bit curious?" Tariq still spoke hoarsely, his voice still rather loud.

"No. I'm not."

_Liar_, she thought.

* * *

><p>In Harry's office, he pointed to the chair directly across his desk, while he sat in his own chair, the desk providing a physical barrier between them. He had barely looked at her since Ruth had left.<p>

"I thought the arrangement was that when you arrived at the front desk Security would call me, and I'd go downstairs to meet you."

"I thought I'd surprise you."

Harry sat back in his chair and watched her. He knew that the death stare had little effect on her (she had been known to collapse into giggles when he'd tried it in the past), and yet he stared across the space between them, hoping to convey even a small fragment of his irritation.

"That was _the_ Ruth, wasn't it?"

"_That_ …. is none of your business."

"She's the one …... isn't she?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, come on, Harry. I know you. She's the woman who was away for three years, and you were lost and forlorn the whole time."

"Whoever told you that?"

"Our daughter. She was worried about you."

Harry dropped his eyes, and made unnecessary adjustments to some of the objects on his desk – his mouse pad, mouse, and then the pile of files on the desk in front of him.

"Did I just step over a line?" the woman asked, her voice low and quiet.

"Not only did you step over the line, Jane, but you sent an army of jack-booted commandos in ahead of you. You seem to have forgotten that my private life is no longer your business."

"Sorry," Jane said, and she seemed to mean it. She watched her ex husband as he again fiddled with the objects on his desktop. It was clear to her that he didn't welcome her presence in his work place, but she had been curious, and her curiosity had paid off. She had met Ruth, the woman who had knocked Harry Pearce for six, although what it was he saw in the woman was still not clear to her. As Jane saw it, the resulting discomfort from any anger Harry directed her way had been worth it.

"About our son," she said, and Harry stopped fiddling, and looked up at her, his face serious.

"Is this what this visit is all about?"

"Mainly, and to touch base with you, Harry."

"I don't believe you. You wanted to come in here and check out Ruth for yourself."

Jane smiled widely at his words. "I must admit, Harry, that you still know me better than anyone."

Harry broke eye contact, and in that moment, he hoped Ruth wasn't watching them from her desk. "Get on with what you came here to say," he said.

"It's about Graham -"

"If you seriously wish to discuss Graham with me, then we'll not being doing it here." Harry stood, and straightened his jacket. "Come on ….. let's find a coffee shop," and as he headed for the door, Jane quickly got to her feet, grabbed her clutch bag from the edge of the desk, and followed him off the Grid.

Neither Tariq nor Ruth noticed them leave.


	2. Chapter 2

Next day – Thames embankment – 1.04 pm:

Jane Townsend sat straight-backed on an empty bench beside the Thames embankment. She stared ahead of her, the familiar shape of the Houses of Parliament barely registering within her conscious mind. In retrospect, her words to Harry when she'd rung him - `Harry, we need to talk about Graham, and this time you need to become involved' – had been a little confrontational. She and Harry only ever contacted one another when there was an emergency, and mostly that emergency involved Graham and his apparent inability to become a functioning member of the human race. She allowed her mind to wander to the very few face-to-face encounters they had had during the couple of decades since their marriage had ended. It had only been a good marriage for maybe six months, and even then, sex had been the glue which had held them together. Sex with Harry had been worth the price of a few years of loneliness, and then after Graham's birth, her years spent sinking into a deep depression.

Well …... almost.

The truth was that she and Harry had never been all that compatible personality-wise. He was private and intense, while she had once been open and sociable. He would explode in an instant, while she never let the small things bother her. He was a risk-taker, while she soon learned that she preferred men who could provide her with safety and stability. For her, the crunch had come when Harry had not made it to Graham's third birthday party, when she had invited most of the children who lived in their street, along with their parents. She had felt humiliated, having to explain that her husband should be there any minute - but he never turned up. Still …... that was all water under the bridge, and Jane was happy with Philip …... except for one small thing, which had lately become a contentious issue between them, and she needed Philip in her life more than she needed to rescue her son from any further disasters of his own making.

Sensing someone watching her, Jane looked to her left, and saw a woman standing on the pavement, staring at her. The stillness in the woman's body belied the mild panic she could read in the younger woman's eyes. Jane's timing had been perfect. Ruth was standing only a few yards away, and Jane had plenty of room on the bench next to her. She slid over, and patted her hand on the seat beside her, an invitation for Ruth to sit down.

On fine days such as this, Ruth liked to eat outside, and dating back to her earliest days working on the Grid, one of her favourite spots had always been the Thames embankment. From her vantage point on a bench seat, she could observe people going about their day – some in a hurry, while others ambled. She never tired of people-watching. She liked to imagine the private lives of the people as she watched them – are that couple married, or are they lovers; is that woman a nanny, or the mother of those two small children; is that young man angry with the person on the other end of his mobile phone, or is he brokering a deal? Over the years, she and Harry had often met there, a place in the open air to discuss whatever was on their minds, or alternatively, to just sit in the quiet company of the other. At least the woman with whom Harry had been so familiar hadn't chosen the bench which she and Harry had almost always chosen. Whatever this woman was to Harry (and Ruth already had a fair idea), she had not been privy to the details of her own relationship with Harry.

Who was she kidding? Did she and Harry still share a relationship? George's death had floored Ruth, and in the months since she had returned to work at Thames House she had kept Harry at a distance. She'd wanted to blame him for George's horrific murder. She'd wanted to hold him fully responsible for the loss of a good and innocent man. As the days had passed, and turned into weeks, and now the weeks had become months, Ruth knew that she could no longer blame Harry for the events which had been orchestrated by Amish Mani. Over the past few weeks, her thoughts towards Harry had softened, and she'd again begun to see him as the gentle and decent man she had left behind when she'd chosen to go into exile. Harry always meant well, and he sometimes had to form decisions where no clear path of action existed.

Warily, Ruth approached the middle-aged woman who clearly knew Harry very well. The only way to solve the mystery of this woman's identity was to accept her invitation to join her, so very slowly and cautiously, Ruth approached her and sat down next to her. Just to maintain distance, Ruth placed her sandwich on the bench between them. When she looked up, it was to find that the woman was holding out her hand for Ruth to shake.

"I'm Jane Townsend," the woman said. "I'm Harry's ex-wife, and I need to qualify that statement by adding that I am his _very_ ex-wife. All we still have in common are our two children. I need you to know there is nothing else between us ….. nothing at all."

Ruth stared at the hand being offered. After mentioning her name, Ruth had barely registered the remaining words Harry's ex-wife had spoken when introducing herself. Dumbly, she shook Jane's hand, her eyes never leaving their joined hands. _This is so surreal,_ she thought. "I'm Ruth Evershed," she added quietly. "I'm Harry's senior intelligence analyst."

"It's good to meet you at last, Ruth."

"But we met only yesterday."

"I mean meet properly, woman to woman."

Ruth at last lifted her eyes to meet Jane's and nodded. Jane had very light grey eyes, and much like Harry, her eye contact was direct. She had no reason at all to dislike Jane, so she decided she should keep an open mind. Ruth allowed herself a small smile as they eyed each other.

"How about you eat your lunch while I talk?" Jane added.

"Talk? What about?"

When Jane laughed lightly, Ruth looked up from her chicken salad sandwich in surprise. _What did I say that was so bloody funny?_

"There is a person we have in common, Ruth. I can call you Ruth, can't I?" When Ruth nodded, her mouth full of sandwich, Jane continued. "And you must call me Jane. We have Harry in common."

"I don't _have_ Harry anywhere."

"Maybe you should. You know …... and pardon my familiarity this early in our acquaintance ….. but Harry used to be _very_ good …. if you know what I mean."

Ruth did know what she meant, but decided to ignore the comment. What Harry was like in bed was none of her business, and nor was it any longer Jane's business. "I don't think we should be discussing Harry ….. like this," she managed to say, looking down in an effort to break eye contact with Jane, but chiefly to get her to stop babbling about what Harry was like in bed. Ruth had already surmised that Harry would be rather good between the sheets, but she didn't need to hear that qualified by someone who had actually slept with him.

"Alright. We'll not discuss Harry, but you surely must realise that you have considerable influence over him."

"I'm sure that's not true."

"I beg to differ."

What followed was a silence of over a minute, during which Ruth ate her sandwich, and Jane stared across the Thames, wondering what she should say next, and how was it this woman and Harry managed to communicate at all if neither of them liked to speak.

"You know," Jane said at last, "you're nothing at all like I expected."

"Why should you expect anything?" Ruth replied. "Harry and I are just colleagues."

"That's something similar to what he said, but my daughter – Catherine – told me how terribly low Harry was while you were away …... in exile, was it?" When Ruth said nothing, she kept going. She'd have to reply to her eventually, even if it was just to tell her to be quiet. "I've been curious about you ever since. It would have to take someone special to upset Harry like that …... at least, the Harry I used to know. I've had my own mental image of you, and …... I have to say, you're nothing at all like I imagined."

"You imagined someone beautiful ….. or glamorous."

Jane looked across at Ruth in surprise, but Ruth was busily examining her sandwich. "No, as it turns out. During our marriage he had affairs …." and Ruth darted her a surprised look at her turn in conversation. "Oh, I knew about his other women. He thought he was discreet, but he'd come home smelling of someone else's perfume, and I knew what he'd been up to. I'm sure he's no longer like that, so you shouldn't worry."

"I don't."

"Good. No, it's just that I knew many of the women Harry slept with, and all of them were beautiful, and he grew tired of each of them rather quickly. The only woman capable of holding his attention for as long as you have would have to have some extraordinary qualities, and I sense this in you, Ruth. Harry has always needed someone who is his intellectual equal, and I can see you are that. What I hadn't expected was that you'd also be so much younger than he, as well as attractive."

_Well_ …... Ruth hadn't expected that. She'd been chewing her sandwich furiously, until it was almost mush in her mouth, and then this ex-wife of Harry's had come out with that little gem. Ruth had been used to being called plain …. or quite-pretty-in-your-own-way …... or (on many occasions) _unique_, whatever the hell that meant. Jane Townsend had just called her intelligent ….. Harry's intellectual equal …. and attractive. The reference to her age was hardly news. Surprisingly, the words from this unusually forthright woman had warmed Ruth from the inside. Despite her intention to remain unmoved, she felt herself smiling.

"You didn't expect that, did you?" Jane asked, her voice softer, kinder, more intimate.

_Bloody woman should be a spy_, Ruth thought. _She'd have the terrorists quivering before her, begging her to let them lick her feet._ "No …. I didn't. Your observations are …... interesting." Ruth surprised herself by looking up into Jane's eyes, and she knew that her own eyes conveyed her new-found respect for Harry's ex-wife.

"I just happen to think that you and Harry might be rather good together. Added to that, you're in the security business, and that's an important part of understanding how the man ticks. I believe you have a rather thorough understanding of the man Harry is."

Ruth almost laughed aloud. She was playing matchmaker. The cheek of the woman! "Why does it matter to you whether Harry is partnered or not? Most ex-wives would rather see their exes dead, not happy."

"Very astute, Ruth. I do have my reasons." Jane waited while a particularly noisy group of men in suits walked past, arguing amongst themselves, while a couple of them also talked loudly on their mobile phones. "Tossers!" Jane said quietly, before again turning towards Ruth. "I didn't meet you today for my own benefit, or for yours, and certainly not for Harry's. I stopped loving Harry over twenty years ago, but I love my children, and even though they're adults, there are times when they need their father. Harry needs to spend some time with his son, and he's more likely to do that if he's happy ….. and I think you make him happy."

Jane took a quick look at her companion, who appeared to be unmoved by her observations.

"If Harry is miserable when you're away, it's reasonable to believe that he'll be happy when you're close to him." She smiled at Ruth, as the younger woman suddenly saw through the whole accidental meeting by the Thames. "Harry always called me a devious bitch, and he's right. I am. I hope you don't mind, Ruth."

"I can hardly judge you for wanting the best for your children," Ruth replied, still surprised by the strange conversation she was having with this woman, almost the last person in the world she'd expected to like.

"Everything you have said to me since you sat down has shown me how much you care for Harry, and everything he said to me yesterday reflected to me his deep regard for you, and his accompanying desire to protect you. Don't throw that away. It's a rare thing. Harry only ever protects that which is precious to him." Jane turned and gathered together her shoulder bag, and leather gloves. "I'll leave you in peace, Ruth. I've enjoyed talking with you. You're different enough from me to be very good for Harry." Jane turned her body on the bench to face Ruth. "If he ever treats you badly, just give me a call."

With that, Jane smiled at Ruth, and then stood and walked off along the embankment. Ruth watched her back as she walked away. She stayed on the bench for another few minutes, thinking about the previous half hour. What a strange day it was turning out to be.

Ruth then decided it was time she and Harry talked.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: This is the final chapter. Thank you to all who have read, followed, reviewed, and all that. Thanks especially for the reviews/feedback on Chapter 2. I was not sure how it would be received, even though it pretty much wrote itself - and that is usually a good sign. I have enjoyed writing this fic more than most, so I am hoping this comes through to you, the reader.** _

* * *

><p><span>The Grid – later that same day – 9.53 pm:<span>

"You can go home now, Tariq," Harry said. "You've done enough for one day. At least we now know how and where the money flows."

"I thought I might stay here overnight," Tariq replied, sitting back in his chair, and flexing his back and neck muscles.

"That was an order, Tariq. By all means get in early tomorrow, but I need you rested."

"Right."

Reluctantly, Tariq began preparing to leave for the day, which would leave Harry and Ruth alone together on the Grid. In mid afternoon Ruth had asked Harry to join her for a drink after work, and he'd been looking forward to it. It was too late to be going out, but that didn't mean they had to forego the drink. He watched as she crossed the Grid floor, her coat over her arm, her bag in her other hand. She was about to head home, so he had to act quickly.

"Ruth," he called to her from the door to his office. "It's too late to be going out for that drink ..."

"I know. I was just ….. heading off home …. unless ..."

"I have some single malt whisky in my office. It's a fresh bottle, and I thought I might try it. Would you like to join me?"

"I'd love to, but I don't want to miss the last bus."

Harry checked his watch. It had just gone 10. "It's not that late, and I thought we could do with some time ….. for just us. I can take you home afterwards." He saw Ruth's eyebrows lift, so he rushed on. "To your place. I wasn't suggesting anything ….."

"I know, Harry," Ruth replied, the slightest of smiles on her lips. "I'd …. love to join you."

As Ruth entered his office, Harry took her coat from her, and hung it on a coat hook next to his own coat. He suggested she sit on the sofa, while he removed his jacket and hung it on a spare coat hook. After he turned to face her, she noticed he'd also loosened his tie, and undone the top button of his shirt. Noticing her eyes on his state of undress, he replied with, "It feels like a noose by this time in the evening," and Ruth nodded her understanding.

Harry then removed his cufflinks, and rolled each of his sleeves to mid forearm. "I hope you don't mind …. me doing this," he said.

"Just so long as you leave some of your clothes on," she replied.

He looked up to see mischief in her eyes, and a smile on her lips. He looked away, feeling a fluttering of excitement in his belly. Something was happening here, and he didn't want to be the one to destroy it before it had properly begun. Something between them had changed, and it appeared to have changed only that day. He'd been shocked when she'd asked him to join her for a drink after work. He'd sat for a moment, not moving, deciding whether her invitation had actually come from her, or whether it had come from his own inner voice which longed to be closer to her. As he'd accepted her invitation he'd tried hard to not sound too excited.

He carried the glasses and the bottle to the sofa, handed Ruth her glass, and placed the opened bottle on a shelf close to him. He then sat next to Ruth on the sofa, leaving a little space between them.

"Here's to better days ahead," Harry said, lifting his glass towards Ruth's, and looking directly into her eyes.

"I hope so too," she replied, touching her glass gently against his, while returning his eye contact. She then glanced away while she sipped her drink. "Lovely," she said. "I think this might even be better than going out for a drink."

Harry watched her carefully, trying to gauge her mood. To his relief, she appeared calm and quite content, even happy. "Was there a reason you asked me for a drink?" he asked.

Ruth's eyes darted to his, and then looked away. It was not like Harry to be so blunt ….. at least, not with her. "Yes. There is."

"Are you going to tell me?"

Harry watched her as she swirled the whisky around in the bottom of the glass. Only a moment earlier she had seemed almost serene, and suddenly – as a result of his direct questioning of her – she was beginning to close down.

"You don't have to tell me," he said. "I was just ….. trying to start somewhere …."

"It's alright, Harry," she said, looking up at him, the slightest of smiles on her lips. "I did want to speak with you about something, but it's …. a little delicate, and I don't know where to begin."

Harry sat back and relaxed. He was always so nervous around Ruth, and he hated that. It interfered with all their interactions, and he was sure that she sensed his discomfort.

"Today I went out for lunch," Ruth began. "I took a sandwich to the embankment."

Harry watched as Ruth paused and took another sip of her drink. "Would you like a top up?" he asked, and she shook her head, and glanced up at him.

Again she looked down at her drink, and then she turned on the seat in order to look directly at him. "I met …. your ex-wife on the embankment. She was waiting for me on one of the benches."

"What ….. did she hurt you, Ruth? Did she -"

"No, nothing like that. Yes, she was waiting for me, and I was going to ignore her and pretend I didn't remember her, but ….."

"She drew you in."

"Yes. She's very good at that."

"She is." Harry topped up his drink, and poured a little more into Ruth's glass, this time without checking with her first. "So this is why you wanted a drink with me." Suddenly, his level of excitement and anticipation dropped, leaving him feeling empty.

"Not really, Harry. I still wanted to spend some private time with you. I've been angry with you …. ever since …."

"I know, and you couldn't have been as angry with me as I've been with myself."

"I know that what happened to George and Nico was unavoidable ….. and that even though it was ….. a tragedy, there was still …. a positive outcome. At the time I …. but now I have clarity. It was terrible, but …. you handled it ….. very well, all things considered. I don't blame you, Harry. It just ….. was."

"But you're angry with me because of Jane."

"No. I'm not. In a way, we may have to thank her for ….. what she did yesterday, and then again today."

"Careful, Ruth. She can be quite manipulative."

"I can see that, but I think she has her heart in the right place."

"She has a heart?"

Ruth chuckled quietly, and took a sip of her whisky. It was already warming her, and she was beginning to feel mellow ….. and forgiving. "There may come a day when you and I will want to thank her." She glanced quickly at Harry to see him watching her closely.

"I seriously doubt that."

"No ….. hear me out." Ruth took another healthy swig of her drink, and then handed the glass to Harry. "I've had enough for now, Harry. I need my mind to be clear for what I'm about to say."

Harry took the glass from her, their fingers touching briefly and deliciously, before Ruth's hand fell away, and he placed her glass on the shelf next to the bottle. As their fingers had touched so had their eyes – very briefly – and in hers he had seen interest ….. in him, especially when her eyes had dropped to his throat.

"Jane met me because she wanted to check me out in person."

"Bloody cheek of the woman!"

"No, I don't think it was like that, Harry. It might have been when she came onto the Grid yesterday. It was clear she was trying to agitate you, and get a look at me, but when I met her today, she told me something which rang quite true."

Harry watched her as she spoke, enjoying their closeness, allowing her voice to soothe him. "Go on," he said.

"I think Jane's reasons for coming onto the Grid yesterday, and meeting me at lunchtime today were to see whether she thought you and I were suited – as friends in the first instance, and then perhaps as …. something …. more intimate." Ruth hesitated, and looked down at her hands, which were clasped in her lap. Harry could barely breathe. "She gave me the thumbs up."

"She _what_? Who does she think she is?"

Suddenly, Ruth unclasped her hands, turned slightly towards Harry, and placed her hand palm down on the leather seat between them. "Harry …. you're so used to fighting with her that you can't see her as anything other than your opponent. She didn't share with me the details of your son's troubles, and I didn't need to know, but she believes – probably correctly – that were you happy in your personal life you'd be more likely to reach out to him, and give him some fatherly guidance when he needs it. Jane thinks that were you and I ….. close …. you would be happy, and so more likely to offer your son assistance."

"And what do you think, Ruth?"

Despite barely being able to breathe, Harry could still speak. He turned slightly towards Ruth, and placed his free hand on the sofa, so that his hand was touching Ruth's. He was about to pull away, when he felt a couple of her fingers hook around two of his. He couldn't move, and he couldn't look down.

"I think ….. that she's right. I think …. that you and I would both be a lot ….. happier if we could … let go of the past, and …... try for something more ….." Ruth had run out of words. She glanced down at their hands, and then up at Harry.

"I've been a terrible father to Graham," he said, his words barely more than a whisper while he morosely looked into his empty glass.

Harry's words of self reproach broke the moment, and Ruth looked back into his face. The hurt she saw there made her want to lean across and kiss him. She felt herself leaning towards him, her eyes on his mouth. When she glanced up into his eyes, he was similarly concentrating on her lips.

Suddenly the door slid open, and Tariq appeared.

"I thought I told you to go home," Harry barked, pulling away from Ruth.

"Sorry … yes, I'm about to go home now. I just had some stuff to finish off. Sorry if I disturbed you."

Ruth had turned to witness the young man's clear discomfort. "It's alright, Tariq. Have a good night."

"Goodnight Ruth. Goodnight Harry."

Harry got up suddenly and strode to the door. Tariq had already left, and rather quickly too, but he locked the door anyway, and then closed the blinds.

"There will be no-one out there now, Harry," Ruth said, keeping her voice light.

"I know, but I wanted to make sure no-one else interrupts us." He walked back to the sofa and sat down, this time closer to Ruth, so that their knees almost touched. When he reached towards her with his hand, she took it. Slowly and carefully he laced his fingers through hers and placed their joined hands on his knee. They were silent as they both watched this phenomenon unfolding. Harry felt his temperature rising, and his heart rate increase. He hoped he wasn't destined to die of a heart attack before he got to kiss Ruth again. "I can't belief that my ex-wife has brought us together like this."

"Believe it, Harry, but she does have an ulterior motive."

He looked at her with a question in his eyes.

"Her partner doesn't want Graham around, and I got the impression that Jane has had enough of trying to ensure Graham doesn't upset her life any more than he already has."

Harry nodded his understanding. "Graham and I have always been at loggerheads."

"Harry …. I've never been a parent, so I'm no expert, but I can remember what my step-father was like when my step-brother became difficult to manage. He'd tell him what to do, and how he should be. The message Peter heard was there was something wrong with who he was, and that in all probability he'd never measure up, no matter what he did." Ruth took a breath as she watched Harry's face. She gave his hand a squeeze before she continued. "Your job as a father is to meet him where he is, even if you don't understand it, and especially if you don't agree with it. You can't be judging him, or putting him down."

"I barely know what to say to him, Ruth, and when I do speak I invariably say something which upsets him."

"If you like, I can help you with it, but …... you have to be the one to be available when he needs you. You have to prioritise, Harry. He needs to know that he's important to you. Young men need fathers. How else can they know how to be men?"

"To be honest, Ruth, I'm terrified of messing up his life all over again."

"You were not the one who messed it up, Harry. He was, but it's clear he could use your guidance. He also needs to know you're not perfect, and that you're also capable of making mistakes."

"I've made too many to count," he said, his voice almost a whisper.

They sat like that, holding hands and looking into the eyes of the other for another minute or two. Harry really wanted to kiss her, but he didn't want to do anything which may jeopardise their newly found closeness. Harry's head was spinning, a whirlwind of wants and probable outcomes beginning to form. This time it had been Ruth who approached him, and he couldn't be pushing her too far or too fast.

"Ruth …... it sounds to me like you actually _liked _Jane."

"Against all my instincts yes, I did. She's …... different. I'm not used to people saying what they mean, and not bothering with the consequences."

"She never used to be like that. When I first met her she was very quiet, uniquely intelligent ….. and sweet."

"Sweet is not an adjective I'd assign to her."

Harry smiled into Ruth's eyes, and without first talking himself out of it, he leaned into her, and placed his lips on hers. Their hands were still clasped on his knee, but with the fingers of her free hand Ruth reached out to very lightly caress the skin of his cheek as their kiss continued, soft and careful and chaste. As he felt his body stirring, Harry pulled away. "That was nice," he said, and Ruth nodded her accord.

"You know," Ruth began, "since we entered your office, we haven't once discussed work."

"I know. There has to be a cut-off point in each day, after which work is a no-go zone."

"I agree."

This time it was Ruth who reached towards him, and this time the kiss was longer, with a hint of passion and a healthy measure of yearning, as their lips parted and their tongues touched. Neither wanted to stop, but it was Ruth who ended the kiss, glancing her thumb along his jaw as she pulled away. They sat there, grinning at one another.

"I really should take you home," Harry said. He didn't want the evening to end, but he knew it had to. They had made progress, and that was all that mattered.

Very reluctantly, they disengaged their hands, and Ruth stood to gather her things, while Harry rang for his driver. He helped her into her coat, taking his time over turning down the collar. While she busied herself doing up the buttons of her coat, he leaned in and kissed her cheek, and then squeezed her shoulders before dropping his hands. By the time Harry had tidied himself and put on his jacket and then his coat, his driver had texted him to say he was waiting for him in the underground car park.

They reached the door to the office, and both took one last look at the sofa before they headed through the door.

While in the lift together, Harry placed a protective hand at the small of Ruth's back, and she smiled, remembering Jane's words about how Harry protects that which is precious to him. In that moment, Ruth decided that some time in the near future she should send Jane Townsend a bunch of flowers.


End file.
